


Heat of the Night

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-06
Updated: 2006-09-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: In the heat of the night, a relationship changes as Hermione and Kingsley play with fire





	Heat of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For the [](http://community.livejournal.com/erotic_elves/profile)[**erotic_elves**](http://community.livejournal.com/erotic_elves/) Outdoor Sex challenge  


* * *

It was the hottest night of the year according to the Daily Prophet and the local Muggle papers.

As Hermione shifted in her chair, her shirt sticking to her back, sweat slowly trickling along her hairline, she could confirm the papers' claims. The cooling charms cast over Grimmauld Place were doing very little to combat the dry July heat. She could hear Harry and Ron upstairs, laughter and moans letting her know _exactly_ how they were distracting themselves from the heat. They had faced and defeated Voldemort but neither of them could cast a correct silencing charm to save their lives.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed her sweaty hair away from her face, tucking the errant curls back into her sloppy ponytail. It was pointless to try to read when they were upstairs shagging. If she heard ‘God, Harry, yes' one more time, she thought she might very well finally move out even if it meant accepting Ginny's offer to sleep on her sofa until she found somewhere new.

Of course, she'd tried living alone right after leaving Hogwarts and hated it. The silence, the loneliness, the empty flat that made the evenings seem twice as long. When Harry had invited her to move in with him, Ron, and Remus, using the excuse that none of them could look after themselves (something she somehow doubted Remus knew he was saying) and needed her, she'd accepted after only a few hours deliberation.

That had been four years ago. Four years of catching them snogging, shagging, listening to their very vocal displays of affection, and feeling even more alone when she never managed to get a second date with one of the few blokes that asked much less a shag. Normally, she didn't mind that her last sexual experience had been a drunken shag with Seamus, of all people, during Ron's birthday party more than two years ago.

Then there were the nights, like tonight, when her body felt alive and tense and electric all at the same time. She was restless. The heat of the night was causing her mind to drift, her body to feel as if her skin wasn't in the right place, and arousal to hum through her senses. The pages of her book were thick, rough, the texture brushing against her fingertips every time she turned one. The soft leather of her chair was gripping the back of her bare thighs, wet from sweat, each movement of her leg against the smooth surface causing her body to stir.

Giving up, she stood, her hand smoothing out her faded T-shirt and making sure her shorts were pulled down properly. It was Thursday night, which meant Boys' Poker Night for Remus and his friends. Every Thursday, she would find anywhere from four to ten men in the library playing cards, drinking, and being loud. Luckily, Remus _did_ know how to use a silencing charm so they never disturbed her and, on occasion, she would even join them if they were a player short.

Tonight, there were six guests, if she had noticed everyone arrive: Moody, Kingsley, Bill, Lee, Oliver, and Flint. Hermione got a plate and arranged some biscuits and crackers for the boys to snack on and went to the library. After knocking, something she'd learned to do after living with Harry and Ron, she opened the door and went inside. "I've brought you boys some snacks," she said with a warm smile, placing the plate on the desk. Looking at Remus, she told him, "I'm going for a walk, Remus. The house is too warm, and I need some air."

"Ah, those lads still need to learn their charms, do they?" Moody muttered without looking up from his cards, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Yes, well, I imagine they weren't thinking about spells, old man," Bill teased, winking at Hermione before putting down his card.

"Stop flirting and play cards," Kingsley demanded gruffly, dark eyes looking from Bill to her before he looked away.

Hermione's cheeks flushed at the auror's words, quickly looking away from Bill and the others. Oliver offered her a friendly smile that she returned before walking to the door. "I'll be back later."

"Be careful out there, Granger," Flint cautioned in a growling voice that used to scare her and that she now knew was just normal for the former Slytherin. She rolled her eyes as Oliver beamed at his lover for giving her the warning.

"If you need a bodyguard, Hermione, I'm pants at this game," Lee volunteered with a hopeful ‘please get me away from here before I lose all my galleons' look.

"I think I should be safe enough walking to the park," she decided after a moment of deliberation, laughing softly when he sighed dramatically before shaking his finger at her in a ‘you'd better watch out' sort of way.

Leaving them to their game, she got a cold bottle of water from the kitchen and set out for the park. The sun was low in the sky by the time she reached the small park not far from home. It was beautiful; shades of red, orange, and violet adding color to the western sky. It was still unbearably hot, even more so than the house, but at least she wasn't surrounded by the sounds of her best friends shagging enthusiastically.

Hermione hadn't walked very far into the park when she felt a prickling of awareness on the back of her neck. She slowed her steps, listening carefully for any sounds behind her, uncertain if someone actually was watching her or if she was just imagining things. Her hand reached for her wand, just in case, and she froze as she realized she'd left it on her desk back at the house.

She considered turning around and going back home, knowing the men playing cards would be quite upset if they knew she'd gone out without carrying her wand. If she snuck in while they were still playing, she'd be able to avoid a lecture from Moody, a disgusted look from Kingsley, and a disappointed look from Remus. Of course, it was very likely that it was just her imagination. It had been years since the War, all of Voldemort's supporters that they were aware of were dead or at Azkaban, and she couldn't think of any other reason someone might follow her.

Laughing at herself, she shook her head. The heat was messing with her mind, she decided finally. Taking a drink of her water, she looked at the sunset, trying not to worry about someone being on the path behind her. Every time she discreetly looked back, it was empty, which confirmed her racing imagination. However, she couldn't resist taking a rarely used path towards the lake to watch the birds. If she heard footsteps behind her on this path, she'd know she was being followed.

When she heard what decidedly sounded like a branch snapping behind her, she didn't feel at all good about being right. Her body stiffened, her eyes darting around for a way of escape should someone attack, and she cursed her foolishness for leaving her wand behind with every step. The sound seemed to get closer, her heart racing, her speed increasing as best it could over rocky terrain. Finally, she broke into a run, thinking that there might be other people around the lake should she need to call for help.

She didn't make it five steps before a very strong arm snaked around her waist, a rough palm covering her mouth, her body pulled back sharply against a very hard body. The smell of licorice and mint and _man_ assaulted her senses, a scent that was very familiar but did not relax her at all. In fact, it caused her heart to begin racing and her skin to flush.

"Stop struggling, little one."

His words were a low rasp in her ear, husky and firm, not asking but telling. He must be teaching her a lesson, she decided as she rapidly tried to figure out what was happening. He'd obviously noticed she forgot her wand and was now teaching her how dangerous it was to go without it even while close to home. She whimpered against his palm as his body pressed closer, blushing as she realized she was reacting to his nearness.

Her attraction to him was nothing new. She'd realized that a couple of years ago during a holiday party. A sprig of mistletoe had resulted in him glaring at the others and hastily applying a quick kiss to her forehead. Hermione had been annoyed at his dismissive gesture, his treatment of her as if she were a troublesome child over the years growing old by the time she was seventeen, so she'd impulsively leaned up and kissed him with every bit of passion she could find.

It had shaken her badly, a realization that she wanted him, of all people, and that she'd been willing to have him push her against the doorway and take her right then and there without giving a knut who was watching. He, however, had stepped back quickly, looking anywhere but at her, his expression indecipherable but she assumed he'd been horrified to snog someone he didn't particularly like, even if his body had responded to her close warmth.

She'd fought her desire for him ever since, knowing it was the worst thing she could ever possibly feel. Even fancying Ron or Harry would have been smarter because she might have had a chance at joining them since they'd made the offer several times in the past. He, however, didn't like her at all. She'd heard him refer to her as a bratty little girl on several occasions, and he refused to treat her like a young woman and not some silly fifteen year old child.

Now when he was holding her so tightly, his body so hard and firm behind hers, she couldn't stop the want. Hermione stopped struggling, knowing it was far better if he gave his lecture and left her to wank against a tree than to keep fighting his strong embrace. Preparing herself for a ‘the world is a dangerous place and you kids need to always keep your eyes open and be alert' lecture, she was startled when she heard what sounded like an unmistakable groan against her neck.

Warm breath brushed along sensitive skin, her tongue nervously reaching out to lick her lips, accidentally grazing his palm. The action caused his arm to tighten around her waist, dragging her back sharply. Her pulse began to race as she felt his erection against her arse, eyes widening at his reaction to her closeness. Tentatively, she moved her hand behind her to touch him, needing to know if it was _her_ that caused his arousal or if perhaps he just got hard playing his stalking game.

"You're playing with fire, little girl," he growled against her neck, his hand leaving her waist to grip her wrist tightly and remove it from his upper thigh.

She hesitated for a moment, thinking over his words, knowing the truth of them. An impulsive kiss at Christmas was far different from encouraging him to ravish her until she couldn't walk. There would be no going back, a chance that he only wanted one thing from her, the knowledge that she hardly knew him personally, only seeing the image he presented to the world, the possibility that it would be a one night stand with someone she respected and admired. Her whole life seemed to be comprised of making safe choices, her decisions well thought out and never risky. Tonight, in the heat of the summer's night, she wanted to be reckless.

Unable to tell him what she wanted, she let her body convey her desire. A subtle rolling of her hips brought her arse firmly against his erection. Dropping her water bottle, her free hand moved over the large hand covering her mouth, delicately tracing her fingertips over dark skin, her eyes unable to look away from pale against dark, wishing she had a mirror to see their bodies entwined together, nude and glistening with sweat and sex. A soft kiss against his palm; the hand he was gripping tightly, so tight she might bruise, pulling against her chest, wanting him to touch her.

"Stop," he whispered hoarsely, his hips pushing against her, rubbing hesitantly. "So bloody wrong, little one. Can't do this. Shouldn't want this."

She wanted to growl in frustration. Since when did he get so timid and uncertain? He was always commanding, take-charge, ruthless and cunning, never backing away from a challenge. But he thought too much, a reminder of the Ravenclaw beneath the brave and blunt exterior. Hermione knew she should stop, should just walk away and forget he'd almost given in to temptation and desire, but she didn't want, damn it. All she wanted was his hands on her bare skin, to feel him inside her after thinking about it for years, to see if he got more vocal in the throes of passion or if he moaned or if he was quiet and intense.

Without thinking of the consequences beyond that night, she bit his hand as hard as she could, listening to him curse behind her as he pulled it free. Keeping her eyes on the tree nearest her, she whispered, "I want you to burn me, Kingsley. Please."

He growled softly, a tremor of awareness causing her to shudder against him, his teeth biting her neck sharply. "Silly little girl," he scolded, teeth worrying her flesh between his teeth before he finished speaking. "Don't know what you're asking."

"I want," Hermione moaned, her head falling to the side so he could reach more skin with his teeth and lips. She didn't finish her sentence, words failing her as his hand suddenly gripped her breast.

"Is this what you want, little one?" he rasped in her ear. "Rough and fast against a tree in this bloody park? Me hurting you, not able to stop fucking you even as you're begging me to slow down, to be gentle, bruising that pale skin and making you mine, marking you for all to see. You don't want to play your silly games with me, girl. I'm too old for teasing and flirting. Run along back home like a good little girl and find someone nice and sweet to play with."

"I don't play games," she said sharply, all too aware that he told her to run along but held her more firmly against him. "And I've not been a little girl for a long time, old man. I want _you_ , however I can have you."

Instead of replying, his hand roughly unfastened her shorts, practically tearing the soft denim before they were open. His hand was hot as he slid it along her groin, coarse hairs tickling his palm, his fingertips worn and calloused as they moved along her lips. The sound of ripping distracted her from the sensation of his fingers touching her _there_ , the warm evening air caressing her bare stomach and lace covered breasts as her shirt was pushed down her arms. Her breath caught when she felt cold metal against her sweaty skin, watching the blade glide along her skin before it snagged on the front of her brassiere. One quick pull forward had her breasts free, spilling out of the lace cups with a soft bounce.

They looked so much smaller when she realized he'd be seeing them. Normally things like that didn't mean anything to her, but she suddenly wished she was slim and svelte with abundant cleavage instead of being a bit curvaceous with round hips and a slight swell of a stomach and breasts that were just average. He still hadn't said a word since she said she wanted him, his breathing labored, warm against her shoulder and neck as he bit and sucked her skin.

His palm against her breasts caused a gasp, rough skin rubbing her nipple, fingers curling around the plump skin and squeezing with far more gentleness than he'd given himself credit. It was a perfect blend, in her opinion; exactly what she wanted. She didn't want to be treated like fragile glass, as if she might break, like the few others she'd shagged had treated her. She wanted fierce, hard, consumed by desire, losing herself to pleasure instead of wondering if they'd ever get finished.

Hermione reached ahead of her, her hands on the jagged bark of the nearest tree, fingers digging into wood without regard to splinters. He was moving two fingers inside her, not even pushing down her shorts and knickers, his body grinding against her from behind as he kneaded her breast. The sun was nearly gone from the sky but it was so hot, her body on fire. His hard cock was pressed against her back, his tall frame leaning over her as he began to suck and bite her other shoulder. When his thumb began to rub her clit with forceful strokes, she couldn't stop panting, sweat trickling down her breasts and legs, pale skin flushed from heat and arousal.

"Come for me, little one," he suddenly growled as he added a third finger inside her, her muscles tightening and squeezing.

"Oh," she gasped as she felt the tension snap. Her back arched, breasts thrusting forward, fingers clawing at the tree as she came hard, drenching her knickers and his hand with her release. Before her body stopped trembling from her orgasm, he was pulling his hand free, turning her, lips roughly claiming hers as he raised her, shoving her against the tree. Her legs wrapped around his waist, feeling his cloth covered erection pushing against her hard.

One of her hands moved behind his back, fingers moving over his bald head before gripping his neck so she could deepen the fierce kiss. The other moved between them, trying to free his cock, _needing_ to feel him inside her. She pulled back to protest when she felt his hand grip her wrist again, pushing her arm against the tree. Her other hand joined it, his fingers gripping both of her wrists as his other hand squeezed her arse. The look in his dark eyes stopped any protests, the air suddenly thick with desire and want as he forcefully pushed against her, sending her bare back hard against the tree.

Neither spoke as he lowered his head, unshaven cheeks nuzzling her skin, his lips enveloping her tight nipple, tongue flicking against it as he kept pushing against her. Her hair got tangled on the bark, sticking to it as she tried to lean forward to kiss his neck. Her fingers were curled into her palms, nails digging into her skin as he rocked against her, nothing teasing or playful about his movements. She used her weight best as she could to meet his thrusts, rubbing against his trousers, feeling him so hard and firm through the material, frustrated that he refused to free himself and enter her wet heat.

His wet fingers moved over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, the scent of sex and sweat so thick in the air, the material of his shirt sticking to her bare skin. He shifted position, pressing against her even more intimately, her knickers rubbing against her clit as he thrust forward. He was panting against her collarbone, his thrusts more urgent, hard, rough, grinding on every shove forward. She could feel him tense, his body going rigid before he grunted, his lips moving against hers as his hips forced her against the tree hard.

Hermione came shortly after him, her cry of release caught by his mouth, her body relaxing against his. When he finally pulled back, he let her wrists go and stepped away. Her legs were shaky, barely supporting her weight, her hair a mess of unruly curls around her sweaty face, her bra hanging open, breasts baring his bite marks, pale skin already starting to bruise lightly. Her lips were swollen from fierce kisses, and she felt thoroughly debauched despite the fact he was still fully clothed.

"You play dangerous games, little one," he said softly, dark eyes watching her closely with an intensity that aroused her.

"I'm not playing, Kingsley," she whispered in reply, rubbing her sore wrist as she waited to see if he stayed or ran away from what they just shared.

"Too young," he muttered as if he were speaking to himself. "And I'm far too old for this."

Hermione slowly smiled as he took a step forward, his eyes not leaving hers. "You know that age is merely a number, don't you?" she asked in her best matter-of-fact voice. "So, Kingsley, do you plan to run away and hide like some silly old man or take a chance and see where this goes?"

His teeth were a flash of white in the growing darkness, her mind idly noting that her parents would love his hygiene, and then everything fled her mind as he pulled her against him. The heat of his body causing her to moan softly, his lips ghosting over hers, teasing her, the insufferable prat.

"I think, Miss Granger," he said in the deep voice that sent shivers of awareness throughout her, "that we're going to play with fire."

 

The End


End file.
